Haste to Leave the Crime Scene
by AmethystWren
Summary: She's the little girl his sister tutors in history. She's sweet, sure, but that's about as far as his 'feelings' towards her go. He volunteered for the Hunger Games when he was just fourteen, and still came out a Victor. If she's honest with herself, even if he makes her laugh, she finds him arrogant and rather rude. Of course, they're going to fall in love anyway. Finnick/Annie
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, or any prospects and ideas you might recognise from it. **

* * *

When it happens, it doesn't feel like reality. It's like a dream, which is absurd, because she knows it can't be. Yet what she _knows_ and what she _feels_ are quickly becoming two very separate things.

Dom looks over at her, the blade of the sabre in his hand still dripping with blood. "Come on then, 4." He says calmly, like he hasn't just murdered someone, like there isn't a decapitated body on the floor by his feet.

Annie doesn't go with him. Reality and her dream-like state of mind both seem to agree on something, which feels like an achievement, no matter how grisly a revelation their idea might be; run. Run away, hide.

So she does.

Never before has anything felt so _right_ as fleeing the scene of the crime does to Annie at this moment. Her pace quickens and quickens, and she doesn't feel any sort of tiredness at all until she trips over a tree root.

The shock throws her off guard, and she sits on the ground for a moment, glancing around in fear. Swallowing back the tears that seem to have knotted in the back of her throat without her prior knowledge, she gets to her feet and, ignoring the scratches running across her legs thanks to her stumble, realises just how out of breath she really is.

"Hide." She mumbles under her breath, so quietly she doubts the cameras will pick it up. "We need to hide." She doesn't know who 'we' is, just that part of the group is her. And she _needs_ to hide.

Annie finds a cave. As her dream-like state starts to ebb away, she musters up the rationality to search the place for mutts or fellow tributes. Thankfully, there are none of either, and she curls herself up in a ball at the back of the cave.

The tears she'd been holding back seize the moment, starting as a choked sob and swiftly transforming into a crying fit that jolts her entire body, tries to steal the air out of her lungs.

How long she stays like that, she can't be sure. But when she eventually uncurls herself and tries to stand up, she topples against the wall of the cave almost immediately. Her hands and legs tingle with pins-and-needles as the blood rushes around them at their usual rate, and she wonders absent-mindedly just _how_ tightly she was hugging herself.

She wonders if it was tight enough to kill someone, squeezing and squeezing the life out of them until they can no longer breathe, as their life is forced from their lungs like-

Annie cuts the thought short with a shake of her head. Using the wall for support, she struggles towards the entrance to the cave and, cautiously, sticks her head out,

It's night-time, whilst she'd entered this cave some time around mid-afternoon. That means she must've missed the anthem, and the list of deaths. It surprises her just how relieved she is to learn this.

She also has no way of knowing who's died since she started to cry. The last cannon she recalls hearing was _his_, and-

Again, she cuts the thought short, this time before it has chance to blossom into something truly, truly terrible. Because something like that certainly will in a matter of seconds.

Seeing nothing else left for her to do, she heads to the back of the cave once more and sits down cross-legged on the floor.

Her stomach growls, and she glares at a point on the floor a little way away from her. In her haste to flee _that_ little crime scene, she left all the supplies with Dom and the remainder of the Career pack. Absolutely _all_ of them.

Annie realises she's subconsciously been drawing patterns in the mix of dirt on the floor of the cave whilst she thinks. She wonders if dirt is edible.

A loud rumbling noise shocks her out of her reverie with a jolt. It takes a moment for her to place it as her stomach growling once again.

"If you aren't quiet, someone will find us." She whispers at it harshly.

It continues to ache hungrily, but it makes no more noise, for which Annie is grateful.

* * *

She must fall asleep, because the next thing she knows is that she's darting awake, jumping to her feet, and scrambling against the cave wall for footholds like the floor might open up and eat her.

It takes a moment for her to realise how silly she's being. The floor is safe, perfectly safe. Stepping away from the wall, a small, nervous giggle escapes her lips. It quickly turns into fully fledged laughter and, whilst she can't for the life of her figure out what's so funny, she makes no move to stop it. Laughing is much better than crying.

She stops laughing when she hears a beeping; a high-pitched, repetitive beeping. Tiptoeing to the mouth of the cave, she looks around for the source before her eyes settle on a silvery parachute, attached to a box of equally chrome shade.

As she reaches for this gift, she can't help but notice how the silvery box is roughly head-sized. How does she know it doesn't contain a head? What if it's _his_ head?

She feels her breathing quicken and, as before, swallows the knot of tears back down to sit in the pit of her stomach once again.

"Finn wouldn't send you a head, Annie." She scolds herself, her tone barely audible to anyone save her. "It's okay."

Cradling the box in her arms, she slinks back into the far end of the cave and sits with it in her lap.

Despite her reassuring words to herself on the matter, it's a full ten minutes before she plucks up the courage to open the box and peer inside.

Within, she finds a paper bag bearing the Capitol logo, and no heads. Reaching inside, she pulls the bag out and opens it. It contains sherbet lemons, and she smiles to herself automatically.

"Thank you." She whispers, this time as loudly as she dares in the impending silence surrounding the air around her. She knew telling Finn these were her favourites would pay off some day.

Sucking on one of the sweets, planning to save the rest but somehow finding a further three sneak their way into her mouth before she has chance to hide them in one corner of the cave and place the box in front of them, shielding the paper bag from view before she can devour all of its contents.

* * *

She's fine, for the most part. Occasionally, her mind will drift to thoughts of blood, of maim, of death, but she can always shove such images away before they have time to send her spiralling into a pit of heart-wrenching tears once again.

However, as the sun starts its descent on her third day sealed within the cave, she is discovered by the twelve year old girl from 7.

Little girls don't scare Annie; not in the usual sense. Her little cousin, Amelie, used to tug at Annie's hair and infuriate her to no end, but she wasn't _terrified_ of her.

She has, however, earned herself a recent terror when it comes to the mere idea of blood being anywhere besides inside a person's body.

So, when little Elowen peers into the cave, face and hair streaked with a mixture of blood and sweat, Annie can scarcely keep together.

"Can I hide in here?" The younger girl asks.

Annie nods, bursting into tears almost immediately. She pulls her legs against her chest, wraps herself up in the ball she'd avoided since she'd come running this way in the first place.

Something rubs her back soothingly, and she thinks it might be Elowen. She doesn't think to check.

* * *

**I might continue this. Maybe go backwards and write the lead-up to this point or something. Would anyone be interested in reading more of this?**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, both my reviewers said I should continue this, and I quite like the idea, so behold: chapter two!**

**This'll probably end up replacing one of my other Hunger Games fics, _As Soon As It Stops_, for anybody reading that.**

* * *

_Five years previously…_

He's proud of himself. At fourteen years old, he's already volunteering for the Hunger Games; most people wait until they're eighteen, the very oldest a tribute can be, and _then_ do it. But Finnick? No, he volunteers very early, because he is just _that_ awesome.

Reclining casually on the large green sofa, which stretches against the far wall of the visiting room, he waits for someone to open the door and wish him all the luck that they possess.

It's his parents and older sister who enter first. Marie, still dolled up in the Reaping Day finery that is their grandmother's favourite green dress, flings herself at the place beside Finnick on the sofa without a moment's hesitation.

"You _idiot_!" She scolds. "You stupid, _stupid_-" She stops abruptly, wrapping her arms around her baby brother and hugging him so tightly against her it _almost_ hurts. Her shoulders start to rack with sobs, and it's about all Finnick can do to pat her back awkwardly.

"Um… There, there?" He tries to comfort her.

She untangles her arms from around him, straightening her back, levelling her shoulders, and clasping her hands in her lap. "I'm not crying." She lies.

"I know." He plays along with it.

Finnick turns his attention to his parents, who stands across the room, watching in silence. It's his father who speaks first. "That was foolish."

The youngest Odair child tries his hardest not to feel disappointed by his father's apparent lack of pride in his actions.

"But I wish you luck all the same." Mr. Odair cracks a smile, and Finnick finds himself mirroring it. Trust his father to act so upset when, really, he's just as pleased as Finnick is.

Mrs. Odair rests a hand on her husband's shoulder. It looks to Finnick like she's leaning against him, like he's the only thing preventing her from falling onto the floor. "Remember, Finnick," She says calmly. "My father was a Victor. It's in your blood to win."

"I know, Mum." Finnick promises her. "And I will."

Marie makes a strange, choking sort of noise and so Finnick turns to give her hand, which still lies in her lap, a reassuring squeeze. She looks over and smiles tenderly. "I love you."

"I love you too, sis." He lets go of his hand so that he might hug her; a gesture she returns without hesitation.

All too soon, the door opens and the Peacekeeper pokes his head round. "Time's up." He announces.

Marie lets go of her brother and raises a hand to wipe at her eye furiously. "I'm not crying."

"I know." Finnick laughs.

Their mother holds out a hand, which Marie stands up to take despite that fact that she's nearly seventeen years old. Waving their goodbyes, the Odair family leave the small room, their youngest member still perched on the sofa within.

* * *

His next visitor is his best friend from the Training Academy; Kaito. The first thing the red-head does upon entering the room is push his glasses up his nose. Then, rather than 'hello', he says "You'd better know what you're doing, Odair."

Finnick just laughs, patting the space beside him. Kaito sits down beside him, arms folded in a vain attempt to disguise his worry for his best friend's safety.

"I mean, seriously, _fourteen_?" He continues. "If you waited 'til you were eighteen, I've no doubt you'd ace it. But fourteen?"

"I know, I know." Finnick assures him. "But I can ace it anyway. I'm just as good as any eighteen year old; maybe even better!"

Kaito snorts. "Ego, much?"

Finnick punches him lightly in the shoulder. "Shut up." He teases.

The pair of friends talk the three minutes away casually, as though one of them isn't about to be sent off to what will probably be death. And when the Peacekeeper comes, it's just as casually that the pair part ways.

"See you later." Kaito waves as he heads for the door.

Finnick nods. "You too, Kai. You too."

* * *

His third visitor is his sister's twelve year old history tutee. It's not that the kid's bad at the subject, just that she thinks she could be better, and since Marie is an all-round smarty-pants when it comes to schooling, it was her that the kid was pointed towards when she asked her teacher where she could find a tutor.

"Annie?" Finnick splutters as the young girl shuts the door behind her and stands awkwardly in front of it, hands clasped behind her back. "I wasn't expecting you to come… Wait, where are your parents?"

"They went home; Jonah was upset." Apparently noticing his patronising stare, she rolls her eyes at Finnick. "I _did_ tell them."

"Of course you did." Even Finnick is unsure of whether or not he intended that to come out sarcastically. Still, he pats the space next to him on the sofa, just as he had with Kaito, and waits for Annie to make her way over.

She does so hesitantly, sitting down about as far away from him as she can whilst not making it blindingly obvious. "That was stupid." She informs him bluntly.

It takes a moment for him to realise that she is, in fact, referring to the fact that he just volunteered not twenty minutes ago. "Why?" He asks defensively. "I _can_ win, can't I?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "Can you?"

"Yeah." His voice comes out shakily. Swallowing, he tries again, louder and more confidently this time. "Yeah, I can."

"What's your token?" Annie asks suddenly, turning her head to face him.

The question catches him off guard. "Uh, um, my token, yeah? It's, uh…"

"You don't have one, do you?" She guesses, smirking slightly.

"Do you want the truth?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"No."

"No _what_?"

He sighs. "No, I do not have a token."

"I knew it." Annie trills in a sing-song sort of voice.

It's all Finnick can do to keep from groaning. Why must she be so _annoying_? "So what? It's not that important. I don't know why you're making such a big deal over it."

"It's _very_ important." Annie insists. "Your token is what people in the Capitol will use to remember you by when you die."

"Hold on," Finnick cuts in. "_When_ I die? Surely you mean _if_?"

"If, when, same thing really." She retorts thoughtfully. "You're just a kid, after all."

"I'm older than you, aren't I?"

"_I'm_ not the one who just volunteered for the Hunger Games at _fourteen_." She points out.

He opens his mouth to retort, realises she's risen a perfectly valid point, and promptly shuts it once again.

"Anyway," Annie dusts some unseen spec of dirt off of the skirt of her Reaping dress- a lilac thing which is miles too big for her- and continues. "Your token."

"I don't need a token, Annie." He insists.

"You do!" She counters defiantly, already looking around the room for something that might work. Her sea-green eyes light up as she encounters an idea, and her hands raise to the back of her head, where they begin to untie the ribbon holding her hair up in its high, neat ponytail.

"I think you're missing something here." Finnick points out. "My hair's a little too short for me to start putting ribbons in it."

Still, she finishes untying her bow and holds the purple ribbon, a shade darker than her enormous dress, out for the fourteen year old boy. "Then wear it as a bracelet or something."

"But men don't wear bracelets!"

"Good thing you're still _fourteen _then, isn't it?"

Groaning at his defeat, beaten by a _twelve year old girl_ no less, Finnick takes the purple ribbon and holds it in his hands. "_Fine_."

Annie beams. "There. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

The door opens before Finnick has chance to retort with something witty, and the Peacekeeper outside pokes his head around. "Time's up, Miss Cresta."

Annie jumps to her feet and turns to face Finnick, one hand on her hip as she warns sternly, "I'll be _watching_, Mr. Odair; you'd _better_ be wearing that ribbon."

"Aye aye, captain." He replies jokingly as she scampers out of the room.

* * *

"What's that you've got tied around your wrist, there?" Caesar Flickerman asks the male tribute from District 4. "Surely it's not a _ribbon_, Finnick?"

Finnick laughs, like he belongs in that chair, like he belongs on that stage. "It is, Caesar. It's a ladies' hair ribbon."

The crowd of Capitol citizens bursts into chatter, silenced only by their beloved presenter raising a hand. "And how did such an entity come to be in your possession?" Caesar asks, shifting slightly so that the lapel of his golden yellow blazer is caught by the cameras.

"I'm not one hundred per cent sure myself, Caesar," Finnick jokes. "A little girl my sister tutors _insisted_ I wear it as my token. So, here I am." He turns to look directly into the lens of one of the cameras and raises his wrist, ensuring that it's captured in the shot. "Happy now?"

The crowd on screen laughs. Only after several attempts is Caesar able to quieten them. "It seems like someone might have a crush on our little Finnick, doesn't it?" He asks the crowd. "Giving him ribbons like that." They scream their response, so many answers that they become a jumble of indecipherable words.

The timer buzzes and Finnick rises from his seat. Caesar Flickerman takes one of the fourteen year old boy's hands and raises it above his head. "Let's hear it for Finnick!" The crowd roars their applause.

In the Cresta residence, the eldest child throws the nearest sofa cushion in the general direction of the television screen and almost treads on the cat, which sleeps in the doorway, as she storms out of the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter takes place two years after Finnick won. So he's sixteen, and Annie's fourteen.**

**In terms of the layout of District 4, I'm picturing it as follows: there's Coral Close, which is basically the District 4 equivalent of 12's Town. It's where the merchants and the families with trades live. Annie and her family live here, at the dress-makers, hence the fact that she can readily get hold of ribbon if she wants to.**

**Then there's the Pier, which I don't think is mentioned in this chapter. This is a bit like 12's Seam, only not quite as poor, because 12 is supposed to be the worst off of all the Districts. The Pier is like a seperate village in it's own right, and is closer to the beach than Coral Close. However, there will be sections of beach not dedicated entirely to fishing; not much in the grand scheme of things but they'll be there. The Capitol needs its fish, after all! This is where the majority of the fisher familes come from.**

**And then there's the Victor's Village, which is the exact same as in 12; where the Victors live.**

* * *

"Who was the Head Gamemaker for the 14th Hunger Games?" Marie quizzes her tutee.

Annie taps the end of her pencil against the tabletop as she ponders the question. "Amatus Lyon?"

"No, that was the 15th." Her teacher shakes her head. "Annie, you're almost there. You just need to know the Gamemakers for your assessment at the end of this year, and then you'll ace it."

The fourteen year old smacks her head against the table, groaning. "This is all so _stupid_!"

"No it's not." Marie trills. Annie looks up at her, blue-green eyes glaring as menacingly as they can through the dark hair that's fallen over them. If this affects her teacher at all, it doesn't show. "Now, who was the Head Gamemaker during the 14th Hunger Games?"

"I don't know." Annie grumbles.

"You do." Marie encourages. "Come on; it's on the tip of your tongue, you know it."

"Laurus Trove." Another voice cuts in.

Annie pushes her hair out of her eyes and smile wryly at her tutor. "Laurus Trove?"

"Finnick!" Marie scolds, glaring at her younger brother. Annie doesn't have to turn around to know that he's standing behind her chair, arms folded and a grin on is face. This interruption business is becoming a regular occurrence. "Let Annie answer!"

"She just did." He points out casually.

"Because _you_ told her the answer!"

"Details, details," He dismisses, breezing past the table. Now that he's no longer behind her, Annie can see that he's wearing a _very_ sparkly silver blazer- almost blindingly so when the light catches it- and matching trousers. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"You're not going out like _that_." Marie tells him warningly. "You look ridiculous."

"I'll think you'll find I _am_, oh sister dear." He retorts in a sing-song voice, adding in a more serious tone, "There's a Capitol model staying a few streets away; she just _had_ to meet the charming Finnick Odair, of course."

Marie can't argue with that. Instead, she pushes her chair back and leaps up from it, scurrying up to her baby brother and pulling him into a tight hug. "Stay safe."

"Hey," He wriggles out of her grip, flashing her a bright smile. "It's me; when am I _not_ safe?"

She snorts. "Just don't do anything stupid."

"I'll do whatever's asked of me." He mumbles back, just loud enough for Annie to catch it. Glancing in the direction of the staircase, which is located in the back right corner of the dining room, he adds in a cheerier tone, "Check on Mum for me when you're done."

"Of course." Marie promises, ruffling his coppery hair. And then he's striding out the room. The front door slams shut, indicating that he's left.

Marie retakes her seat, tucking herself back in against the table as tightly as she can. Her tutee sits in silence, figuring it'd probably be rude to ask what's going on, what's happened to Marie's mother, and why on _Earth_ has Finnick gone out wearing what looks like scraps of sunshine sewn onto a suit? He looks like a fairy, if Annie is honest with herself.

"Now," Marie sighs, grinning weakly at Annie across the table. "Because Finnick gave you that one, I'll have to ask you something else…" She pauses for a moment as she tries to think of a question just as devious as the last. "Who was Head Gamemaker during the 28th Hunger Games?"

"Leonia Katt?" Annie answers, though it comes out more as a question than she had hoped it might.

Marie smiles broadly. "See? You're picking this up."

It's a contagious smile; a trait that seems to be rife throughout the Odair family. Annie can't help but grin along with her.

* * *

After their session, Marie tells Annie that she's free to leave. Standing up, she heads up the stairs in the corner of the room, taking them two at a time.

Annie knows she should leave, but she's curious. For the last two weeks, Mrs. Odair has been shut away upstairs, whereas prior to that she was always bouncing about the house, singing sea shanties or else chattering away to anyone who'd listen about the weather, or the news, or the latest gossip about District 4.

She's never been upstairs within the Victor's house that the Odairs were given two years ago, following Finnick's victory. If downstairs is anything to go by, she presumes it'll have the same layout as her Uncle Durans' old Victor's place. Downstairs certainly does, only the furnishings are much more homely and don't smell of tobacco. As a little girl, she never much liked visiting her uncle, mostly because her arrival back home resulted in her mother immediately insisting she have a bath.

"You smell like tobacco!" Mrs. Cresta would insist. Many a time, Annie pointed out that she wouldn't smell like tobacco if her mother hadn't _insisted_ on going to visit her older brother with Annie in tow, but her protests always fell on deaf ears.

When she reaches the top of the stairs of the Odair abode, Annie glances to her left, down the landing corridor atop them. One door of the three she can see is slightly ajar; she presumes that this is where Marie has headed, and thus where Mrs Odair must be. Cautiously, Annie creeps towards it, stopping just before the door and tapping it experimentally with her index finger.

The door swings open a little more and the fourteen year old pokes her head around it. Marie, who Annie decides must have the hearing of a bat, whirls round to face her.

"Annie, I said you're free to go home." She reminds her.

"I just wanted to see Mrs. Odair," Comes the reply. Inwardly, Annie grimaces; it sounds an awful reason, and well she knows it. "I haven't seen her for two weeks; I just wanted to know if she's okay."

Marie nods tiredly, raising a hand to gesture for her tutee to enter. Annie does so, creeping over to stand by her side.

Mrs. Odair lies in bed, her eyes closed, chest heaving up and down rhythmically as she breathes. Her skin, which might be paler than usual, is tinged with a slight green colour, so it's difficult for Annie to be sure if it's shade has changed at all.

"What happened?" Annie whispers, afraid of awakening the woman; she's clearly very sick.

Marie shrugs. "The doctor said it was food poisoning."

Annie turns to face her and raises an eyebrow. "You don't agree, do you?"

"Finnick got food poisoning once, when he was little." Marie explains. "He threw up, he had a temperature, tummy ache, but he was better in less than a week."

"He didn't turn green?"

Marie's lips quirk upwards in a weak attempt at a smile. "No, he didn't turn green."

The pair stand in silence for a moment, watching the rise and fall of the blankets as Mrs. Odair breathes, the only sign that she's alive at all, before Marie puts a hand on Annie's shoulder and turns her round, back towards the door.

"You should be getting home." She insists, walking Annie back down the stairs and to the front door.

Annie walks back to the Cresta's dress-makers in Coral Close, her head lost deeply in thought the whole while. Yet no matter how much she thinks it over, she can't for the life of her figure out what Mrs. Odair might have.


End file.
